Forgotten Wind
by Sentimental Star
Summary: They first met in a hospital when they were eight, unaware that their meeting would decide the entire course of their fates. Now, in the city that used to be called No.6, two stars alter each other's courses once again...:Shion x Nezumi. Reincarnation-fic. High School-fic. Post-Series. Multi-Chapter.:
1. The Wandering Star and the Fixed One

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own these boys or their universe; that all belongs Asano Atsuko.

_**Author's Note:**_ Even though it is probably a very bad idea to start another fic when another still isn't finished, it is how I have been writing fanfiction for…eleven years (_geez_, I can't believe I've been doing this for that long!). This particular fic was inspired by a combination of two doujinshi: _Magical Fingertips_ (sorry, I can't remember the Japanese name!) and _Sweet Dream, Sweet Home_. It is a high school-and-reincarnation-fic all rolled into one, and I can't wait to see what people think about it. Not much to start with, but it's coming…::winks::.

_**Rating:**_ T

_**Summary:**_In the city that used to be called No.6, two stars alter each other's courses once again…(Shion x Nezumi. Reincarnation-fic. High School-fic. Post-Series. Multi-Chapter.)

"_**Speech"**_

_**Personal Thoughts/Memories/Narration (Italics)**_

_.:Forgotten Wind:._

_By Sentimental Star_

_Prologue: The Wandering Star and the Fixed One_

* * *

_For as long as I can remember I have had dreams. They were only fragments of things, really: a forest, a village, a boy…_

_When I turned eight, I had my first nightmare: the forest was burning. The boy, of whom I had dreamed for so long, was running. His village was destroyed, and the people in it…_

_I woke up screaming. My mother tried to comfort me, but even she could only do so much._

_For as long as I live I will never forget that night, nor the events that followed after it._

_(Shion)_

* * *

A long time ago this place was a walled city. Tyrannical, supposedly utopic, rotten and hollow to its core, No. 6 was one of the last "great" city-states. Now it lives on only in stories and cultural memory—serving as a brutal reminder of the depraved depths humanity can fall to.

Now it is called Rose City, a throwback to a time before the wall came crumbling down…or was ever put up in the first place.

Two boys lived here once—one inside the wall, the other outside it, before their paths aligned one stormy spring night. It was collision enough to alter the entire course of humanity.

Over the years their paths diverged, then aligned, then diverged once again, a pattern put on repeat until the wandering star finally succumbed to the pull of Earth's gravity.

It is a beautiful story, but it has been forgotten after so many, many years, even though they are the ones who set Rose City on its course and enabled it to become what it is today.

Souls and memories live on, though, and they collide with astounding force hundreds of years later…

_End Chapter_


	2. Burning

**WARNING:** Possible spoilers for _No.6 Beyond_ in regards to Nezumi's real name (and, eventually, Shion's father). DEFINITE spoilers about Nezumi's family.

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own these boys or their universe; everything belongs to Asano Atsuko.

_**Reviewers: **_Thank you _P-Kim_ and _Tales of Brothers_!

_**Author's Note:**_ The result of reading too many spoilers for _No.6 Beyond_::winces::. Geez, seriously, when a book's _summary_ hurts your chest, you know it has to be good. Unfortunately, it may take me a while to work up the ability to read the summaries in full ::makes face::. So until then (and perhaps even afterwards), I am stubbornly sticking to the notion that Shion _will_ be all right (the _Epilogue_ of _No.6_ even says so!)…and soothing myself with fluff, _Forgotten Wind_, and _No More Farewells_ in the mean time. Please enjoy this next chapter!

_**Rating:**_ T/M (for Nezumi's nightmare)

_**Summary:**_ In the city that used to be called No.6, two stars alter each other's courses once again…(Shion x Nezumi. Reincarnation-fic. High School-fic. Post-Series. Multi-Chapter.)

"_**Speech"**_

_**/Dream/**_

_**Personal Thoughts/Memories/Narration (Italics)**_

_.:Forgotten Wind:._

_By Sentimental Star_

_Chapter One: Burning_

* * *

_The first time I met him I was eight._

_He'd been stung by one of the A.A.S. (Acute Aging Syndrome) Wasps and at that time, few had survived such a stinging. No antibody had yet been found—it wasn't discovered until years later, after all—but I didn't know that at the time._

_Even if I had, it was doubtful the knowledge would have affected me as much as it eventually did. At that time, in fact, I couldn't have cared less._

_I had just lost nearly my entire family in a house fire, and was being treated for third-degree burns in the ICU wing of Chronos University's General Hospital._

_That's where I met him. That's where my whole life changed…_

_(Nezumi)_

* * *

On the 21st night of his stay, his nightmare was very similar to those he'd suffered through on and off over the past three weeks:

/His back was on fire. Smoke hung thick and heavy in the air. His lungs were burning. He couldn't see.

His back was on fire. It seared, and scalded, and he screamed. Screamed until he was hoarse. Even then, he continued screaming—screaming and coughing and asphyxiating.

Mama's cool hand suddenly clamped roughly over the back of his neck (and Mama was _never_ rough), shoving his head down below the level of the smoke line and tossing him to the ground.

A blanket beat out the flames ravaging his back and his shirt, and there was a smoke-garbled scream as flames suddenly leapt onto the blanket and into his mother's long, flowing hair.

Her strangled croak of his name—his _true_ name—was barely comprehensible. He did hear the "_Run_!" she choked out as she crumpled to the ground, her hands already critically burned.

He tried. _Oh_, how he tried, despite every sobbing, wordless internal scream of denial…

_Not happening, not happening. No way, nonononononono….!_

…But in the end he couldn't even stand. The slightest shift or twitch of muscle caused an agonizing, nauseating burn to rush through every nerve ending in his body. His head spun, his dinner threatened to resurface, and Mama was _choking on air_….

_Can't, can't, can't…Nononononono…_

Big hands heaved him off the floor, possessing all of their strength and none of the gentleness he associated with Papa. A blessedly warm and solid back suddenly appeared in front of him.

…'_B-Baachan? W-Why are you taking me away from Mama and Papa…?_

She started moving, half-hobbling, half-running, beating a path to their door with a soaked towel. The movement jarred his muscles and his back, and his entire body _still felt like it was on fire_. He had to turn his head away so he wouldn't throw up on her.

He heard her murmuring to him, encouraging him to be strong, to _not give in_…but the winter night was cold, the wind knifed through his thin, flannel pajamas, and Mama and Papa and little Eve were _still in the __burning__ house…_

_NonononononoNO…!_/

When he woke, tears streamed silently down his cheeks, the sweat and tears making his raven hair stick to his cheeks.

His real name intruded into the haze of his thoughts. A tanned hand, weathered and wrinkled with age, gripped his shoulder and shook it. He tried not scream as the touch, made newly rough and impatient by grief, sent still-healing nerve endings jangling.

His real name tripped out of thin lips, filling the room once again. Only one person ever called him that name anymore.

He cracked his eyes open and croaked, "…'B-Baachan. Hurts."

The old woman sat back in her chair so fast, it rocked back on two legs before slamming forward.

Springs screeched, sheets rustled, and the patient next to him, concealed from sight by a high curtain, abruptly woke.

"'Kaasan…?"

Both the boy and his grandmother froze at the young, tired voice that spoke up.

"…Are they all right?"

Incidentally, it was also due to that nightmare that he first met his rather unusual roommate.

IOIOIOIOIOI

His grandmother sat stiff and silent in her chair as a rather pretty young woman peeked around the corner of the curtains into their partition.

"Please forgive the intrusion, but…is everything all right?"

She had thick brown hair that came down to her shoulders. The wayward wisps and strands that flew around her face were mostly held back by several bobby pins and a white kerchief. She looked like she had just come from work: a dusting of flour coated her cheek.

His grandmother remained silent, her lips pressed together into a tight line and face pale.

She _had_ never liked charity.

He was at a loss as to what to do, or what to say. This woman had such a _friendly_ smile…why did she even bother with them?

She simply continued smiling, waiting patiently for an answer. He did not have one and, blushing and silent, buried his face back in the pillow.

The unfriendly atmosphere was completely lost on the woman. A soft laugh, which she covered with a polite hand, and she spoke up warmly, "I'm sorry, I wouldn't have intruded, but my son insisted. He would have come himself, but—_sweetheart_…!"

The sudden alarm in this woman's voice caused him to immediately sit upright and turn towards her with wide eyes.

The boy who had abruptly appeared and clung to her waist looked terribly thin, almost scrawny, and the shadows under his eyes made him look horribly tired.

Brown hair hung limply around exhausted brown eyes, but other than those two obvious signs that something was seriously wrong, nothing about his outward appearance suggested he should be in a hospital, let alone an ICU ward.

Even less so when the brightest smile he had ever seen in his life suddenly lit up the boy's face with pure, unrestricted delight. "It's you!"

He huffed and pouted, hugging the pillow tightly to his chest, "It's me…what?"

The other boy did not seem to be paying attention. Turning up to his mother, he took her arm and shook it repeatedly, quite clearly incredibly happy, "'Kaasan, 'Kaasan! It's him! It's the boy! You were right, you were right! We _can_ help him!"

Before he could as much as blink, the mother started helping her son over to his bed. A funny clenching sensation invaded his heart as he watched them make their slow way over to him, and he looked to his grandmother for guidance on what to do.

'Baachan still hadn't moved, and her lips pressed thinner and thinner until he fancied he could no longer see them. She remained utterly silent, and he nervously wondered whether he should tell them not to come any closer. 'Baachan quite clearly disliked what was happening, but he really didn't know why—she had changed so much just within the few short weeks that had passed that he was quite honestly slightly afraid of her.

Just as he decided to stop them, something in 'Baachan's eyes seemed to break. Abruptly she glanced down at her brown, wrinkled hands where they curled tightly in her lap. He thought he saw a single, sparkling tear drop out of her eye and tumble down her cheek onto the tough, leathery skin the fire had bequeathed her.

Before he could ask to confirm it, however, or even try to comfort her, the young woman abruptly bent down and smiled at him, so gently and so warmly that he felt his cheeks pinking all over again. "Don't worry; I'll take care of her. Why don't we leave you two to become acquainted?"

IOIOIOIOIOI

_Or reacquainted, as the case may be._

The woman kept her thoughts strictly to herself, helping her son up onto the bed when no verbal objection came from either grandson or grandmother.

All tiredness and exhaustion seemed to sheer away as she watched him crawl forward onto the bed, face eager and bright as he neared the boy he'd dreamt about for the past five years, since he was old enough to _remember_ what he'd dreamt about in the first place.

She hid a small giggle behind her hand as the other boy, who had simply been shy up until now, grew completely flustered as her overly-enthusiastic son drew close. Lightly ruffling both boys' hair (which resulted in her son's friend turning three different shades of pink), she turned to the grandmother with a kind smile and held out her hand, "Shall we go? It _is_ almost dinnertime, and I'm sure they'll be hungry."

They were placating words, really, as her son had eaten barely anything over the past few days and suspected that the same probably held true for this woman's grandson.

She had watched them on and off over the course of this past week, and noticed all outward signs (such as little appetite and social withdrawal) pointed to some great tragedy that had befallen them. She did not pry, but she did invest herself firmly in the belief that if she and her son could do something—even the smallest thing—for these two fellow sufferers, then it was well worth the time they spent here.

Her husband scoffed and commented it would be a waste, but she had never really held with his beliefs.

She fully expected to be rebuffed; indeed, even prepared for it. Much to her delight, however, her hand was not knocked away, but taken (far too timidly) by a smaller, wrinkled one.

Helping the older woman hobble to her feet, she called over her shoulder, "We'll be back, Shion. I'll just take his grandmother down to the cafeteria for dinner, and we'll return after that."

It was vastly apparent that neither boy heard her, but she simply smiled, and led the older woman from the room.

IOIOIOIOIOI

He rather wished the two women hadn't left the room. He had no idea how to handle this overly eager, overly enthusiastic new companion.

The boy had crawled forward on the bed, so they were almost nose to nose, "You're Nezumi, right?"

_Haa…? N-Nezumi…? R-Rat?_

He must have looked utterly shocked, because the happy glow around the other boy dimmed slightly and he backed up a step. "You're not?"

Helplessly, he could only shake his head. The glow dimmed even more, "No? What should I call you, then?"

He hesitated. When his mother died in that fire, he'd sworn he would never again let that name—the last name she'd ever uttered—pass his lips ever again. But this boy…he was so _earnest_, so eager to help, to please…could he do any less? "…_Kaze_," he whispered at last. "My name is Kaze."

The other boy tilted his head to side, "Huh? K-Kaze? Wind…?"

Unsure, he nodded.

The brown-haired boy's brow furrowed in thought, and he tilted his head to the other side. Suddenly, his eyes lit, "I-It fits! It fits so much better than Nezumi! A-And it's still you, right? Y-You're still the one I'm thinking about, aren't you?"

He huffed, frowning, "_I _don't know! You're…really weird."

Wet warmth abruptly dropped onto his cheek. Almost scared, and more than a little concerned he had inadvertently hurt his roommate's feelings, he immediately glanced up.

Tears were streaming down the other boy's cheeks.

"UWAH! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean-!"

Hastily, he began to hunt down the tissues a nurse had earlier replenished by his bedside. Finding them, he immediately yanked out a handful and started dabbing at the boy's face, trying to sop up any moisture escaping down his cheeks.

After five minutes, the tears still had not slowed, and he had already gone halfway through the box of tissues. His chest _ached_…but he did not understand why it hurt him so much to see the other boy like this. Something deep in the depths of his soul yearned to reach out, to comfort him, but what could he do to stop them if he didn't know what had caused the tears in the first place?

"Why are you crying?" he asked softly, wiping at his companion's face.

There was a cross between a nervous giggle and a hiccup, "I-I don't know (_hic_). I-I'm just (_hic_)…really glad (_hic_)…that I f-finally got (_hic_)…to meet you."

He puffed out his cheeks, rather exasperated, and clamped his arms around tightly around the slightly smaller boy in an effort to stop his continuing tears. There was a surprised squeak, "You really _are_ weird," he huffed into the brown hair intertwining with his own. "You're not making any sense. How can you say that type of mushy stuff with a straight face?"

The other boy's hands clenched in his shirt, rather startled, "U-Um, 'cause it's true?"

The raven-haired boy felt his cheeks grow fiery and warm. Pouting, he huffed again, and turned his head away, but continued stubbornly holding on to him, "Really, really, _really_ weird."

IOIOIOIOIOI

After that 21st night, the nightmares started changing.

_End Chapter_


End file.
